please stay for a while now
by loved in shades of wrong
Summary: AU FutureFic: It's not like it's any shocking brand new information or any dramatic epiphany shit like that. Like, he's been half in love with her since he was only a punkass sixteen year old boy. Now at twenty-three, he's still a badass mofo, and knows how to keep his girl happy.
1. i

Title: please stay for a while now (or four times Puck was an awesome boyfriend and one time Rachel was an awesome girlfriend)  
Rating: T  
Genre: Romance  
Pairing: PuckxRachel  
Warnings: exposure of Puck and the workings of his brain; sexual references and crude language  
Summary: It's not like it's any shocking brand new information or any dramatic epiphany shit like that. Like, he's been half in love with her since he was only a punkass sixteen year old boy. Now at twenty-three, he's still a badass mofo, and knows how to keep his girl happy.

i.

Puck wakes up to a pounding head and a throbbing wrist but he considers it worth it with the epic night he had last night. Or at least he assumes it was epic, 'cause he can't remember a fucking thing after Rachel whispering into his ear that she's gotta go but she'll wait up for him.

He groans and rolls over to the nightstand with the blaring alarm clock but hits something warm and firm and smooth halfway. Cracking an eye open, he quirks up a corner of his mouth when Rachel's blur becomes clearer. "'Sup, babe?"

She turns away before producing a cup of chocolate milk (the only thing that can cure any and all of his hangovers, they found). He grunts his appreciation before sitting up against the headboard next to her, and gulps half of the cup.

"You have a tattoo." She points to the pulsing wrist that is resting on her lap.

"Fuck, I was so drunk." He squeezes his eyes shut tight to dim the already faded needle-like pain shooting into his temple and downs the rest of the milk before giving the cup back to her. "It was pro'ly Mike's idea, the ninja bastard," he mumbles, shifting his arm so it's right in front of his face, he squints at the inside of his wrist. "What's it of?"

His eyes focus on the 'love crazy' in red ink scrawled across his wrist with a little gold star next to it.

Of course, this isn't the first time she's hearing about it. Love. Him being in love with her. They said their first I love you's three weeks ago when she was trying to explain to him some shit about the importance of chicks showing female power in television shows today. (Not that he was listening but more so distracted by her gorgeous mouth moving, imagining what it would look like wrapped around his- "Noah! Are you even listening to me?" "Shit, Crazy, I love you but I don't fucking care about what Emily Thorne-In-My-Ass' character represents.")

But it's not like it was any shocking brand new information or any dramatic epiphany shit like that. Like, he's been half in love with her since he was only a punkass sixteen year old boy who didn't know what he had with that sorry excuse of a relationship that week in sophomore year. Plus, you know, Finn and Quinn. Was it really a surprise that after a year of fucking around Burt's auto shop seeing Rachel again when he got to New York kicked the rest of his fine ass onto the Crazy train?

He is now completely okay with admitting that he came for Rachel instead of what he told his mother ("I'm just sick a'ya whining 'bout me wastin' my life here, Ma.") or what he told the prick in the back of his mind (_He's just through with feeling like the Lima Loser he's been trying to shake since his father so graciously gave up his crown and bolted)_. Well, her, and that douchey boyfriend his mother told him she was dating. Punching that pussy when he cheated on Rachel was much more satisfying than Puck cared to understand.

He chances a glance at her when he notices that she's been eerily quiet, and because he doesn't like when she's not talking no matter how much he wants to light himself on fire when she's ranting on and on about who-the-fuck-knows (some things never change), he finds himself filling the unusual silence, "Shit, Rach. If you don't like it I can get it removed. It'll hurt like a bitch, though. And I kinda like it. But if you don't want it..." he trails off when she clears her throat.

"On the contrary. I'm sure in your intoxicated state you found this hilarious, however I find it oddly sweet. Although at first, I was really adamant about you not calling me 'Crazy', it grew on me and I now find it endearing in a 'Puck' sort of way." She bites her lip and holy shit she's turned on. By the tattoo. He is gonna have so much fun with this little information.

"Well..." he says coyly, almost hesitantly and looks down at his hand that's fingering the end of her top. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure!" Puck winces at her volume and she softly apologises before continuing, "I want you to keep it, Noah." She clasps both of her hands around his bicep, tilting her head to look at him earnestly. (Shit, those acting tips from Rachel are stellar.)

Later on, when they're naked and panting and sweating, he feels her finger his wrist, and fuck. He's ready to go again when he has the best idea ever. "Maybe you should get one too."

He takes her answering moan as a _fuck yeah_ before rolling her under him, sliding one hand down between them and the other under her head for a loud kiss to drown her mewls.


	2. ii

**Hi, just wanted to pop in here and quickly say thank you for reading (and for the reviews)! I was really nervous posting this story so it would be awesome to hear what you guys think, the good and/or bad.**

ii.

He honestly doesn't remember why they're fighting and it's fucking dumb 'cause he just wants to sit on the couch and fucking watch _Family Guy_ with a beer in one hand and Rachel's hair in the other.

"Are you even listening to me, _Puck_."

He continues to stare at the wall behind her shoulder even as his expression grows dark, but he growls, "Don't call me that."

She stomps her foot, and he knew it before he hears it so he's rolling his eyes as she makes that noise that she always does when she's beyond pissed. "_Fuck you!_"

It sounds so ridiculous coming from her that he barks out a laugh. And then he laughs some more until he's doubled over with his hands on his knees. And when he's, you know, able to breath, he looks up and she's got her hands on her hips and a little crease between her brows as she frowns.

"I'm sorry. It's just," he snorts. "You're so fucking cute."

"Stop trying to change the subject! I'm not comfortable with you-mph!" He's got both hands on her cheeks as he drowns the rest of her sentence with his kiss. And shit, he realises he's in a Taylor Swift song. (Rachel's a fan, okay? Fuck if he hasn't heard at least seven of her songs while he's been dating Crazy.) What's more fucked up is that he doesn't care. "Noah!" She squirms, pushing at his shoulders, but then she kisses him back so he just slides his arms around her tiny waist.

"Shh," he whispers as he trails his lips to her hairline and down to her neck, biting lightly on her earlobe along the way.

"Noah," she breathes lightly. She gasps then and shoves him off of her, and he wasn't expecting it so he stumbles back. "You can't just kiss me and expect me to forgive and forget."

She's probably right. They've gotta talk and shit if their relationship is ever gonna grow. Or whatever. So he sighs and crosses his arms across his chest. "Okay. M'sorry."

She mirrors his position and stands straighter (like that will do anything). "Sorry for what."

She's going to make him say it. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again, and clenches his jaw. "For choosing the better way to end a fight."

"_Argument_," she protests.

"Sorry," he deadpans. "For choosing the better way to end an _argument_."

"And?"

He squints. "Shit Rach, I don't even remember how this all started."

She's tapping her foot and staring blankly at him for a moment, and he thinks she's going to slap him until she sighs and says, "I don't remember either."

There are two ways to take this: claim it was all her fault because she's Crazy and always busting his balls on the smallest things (which will start another fight), or: "Look, whatever it was I promise not to do it again."

"Noah," she laughs. "That doesn't make sense; you can't-"

"Shhhhh." He shakes his head as he creeps closer and snakes his arms around her waist again.

She cranes her neck back as he tries to move in for a kiss, and frowns. On the plus side, her hands are gripping his shirt (he loves when she's all passionate like that). "Don't interrupt me, Noah."

_That sounds familiar._

"Rach, I swear I don't mean to, but you talk for fucking hours when all you have to say is 'okay' or 'sure baby, whatever you want' or 'vegan crap is yummy'."

She lets go (not cool) and steps back again (_so_ not cool). "I realise that I ramble, but I need to get my point across clearly so that there is no room for doubts about my stance on the situation."

"I get it. But I've other shit to do, okay? I can't stand here all day listening to your five-to-one word ratio sentences."

"I'm not apologising for who I am. Nor am I changing who I am!" She's pouting, and he's trying to decide if he hates that he can't kiss it away or love that it's such a _Rachel_ thing.

"I'm not asking you to do that, alright? Sometimes I love when you do it, 'specially to someone other than me, and I get to see their fucking faces as you tear into them." He falls back on the couch behind him and reaches out a hand, wiggling his fingers for her to grab so he can pull her onto his lap. "We've just gotta compromise."

"Compromise," she repeats.

"Yeah. Like, if I'm not in the mood 'cause I've got deadlines to finish or my boss is on my ass again about whatever this time, and there you are going on and on about the sound tech's choice of lunch for the day-"

"That was one time!" she sputters indignantly.

"You talked about it for _days_."

She turns her head away from him grumbling, and he smirks, placing his chin on her shoulder. He looks up at her face.

"If you're all pissy about something, write it on a post-it and if you still wanna whine when I'm ready, I'll hear it out."

"I think I need something bigger than a post-it." She turns her head back to look down at him, and pushes her forehead against his.

"You're right. A book." He fakes a wince when she punches him in the arm (because he kind of deserves it. Maybe. Not really. Do you _know_ how much the girl talks?).

He frowns when she scoots off his lap, but it slides into a smile when she tucks herself under his arm and gives him the remote from the coffee table. "Deal," she whispers, and he nudges his nose into the top of her head and kisses it.

He turns on to Fox and twirls a strand of her hair around his finger. There's no beer but he's too comfortable.


	3. iii

iii.

He's a badass mofo and knows how to keep his girl happy, so fuck you if you think he's a pansy for doing crap that gets him laid regularly. And shit, he loves her, okay? But this is so fucking retarded he wants to die.

"Noah, please," she pouts, and shit, what is worse than dying 'cause he'd rather to do that than look at that face any longer.

She could have worn a skirt today. It's the fucking least the good lord could do if he's gotta be all gay and shit. Panty flashing is way better than this idea. Fucking _Step Up 3D_. "But Rach, it's such a waste of slushie."

"They're fifty cents a cup, Noah," she huffs. "And since when are you concerned with wastage?"

She's got him there, and he's scrambling his mind for another excuse, like he doesn't want to get his clothes dirty or some shit, but he knows she'll totally shut that down instantly.

Fuck. He can't get out of it.

"Fine," he grumbles, and she squeals and leads him to the air vent they just passed.

He can't help but smile at her though. She's being so fucking adorable with how mesmerised she is when she blows on the straw and the purple slushie floats off above her head, and her little excited laugh with the crinkle in her nose when a droplet falls and lands on her cheek, just under her eye. He reaches up to gently wipe it away before he slowly leans in and kisses her.

Just like in the movie.

He is definitely getting laid later.


	4. iv

iv.

"Slutty Barbie needs all the help she can get," Kurt whispers to Mercedes like Rachel's not right there, as he swirls his straw around in his Sex on the Beach, and she giggles obnoxiously. "She looks so washed out. And that nose! Please, do something about those pores!"

Ever since Mercedes moved to New York and started crashing on Kurt's couch when she couldn't make it in L.A., it feels like high school and that nose job bullshit every time they meet.

Puck glares at the two from across the booth. He didn't even want to go out tonight, much less with Paris and Nicole. But of course Rachel thought it would be fun "catching up". The thing is, they saw each other last week. What else would be new with them? Kurt's still hanging around NYADA's school theatre to grab the attention of anyone who's scouting. Mercedes is still on Kurt's pull-out couch and she's taken to giving out her demos here. Of course, they have their part-time jobs, working shifts at the Starbucks close to their apartment. (Puck's happy as fuck that they're the losers for a change.)

He's got a gig at a small label company, and his girl? Well, it's not at all surprising that she's working as an understudy on an Off Broadway show, already on her way to the top. He's just saying, he and Rachel are doing way better than them, so they're stupid if they're not kneeling down and bowing to her. They're just lucky she's still so nice to them, for whatever fucked up reason.

"Don't be a bitch, Mr. Fagulous." He'd totally kick them under the table if Mercedes isn't a girl and Kurt isn't half a girl. He ignores the horrid gasps from the two and looks over at Rachel who's frowning down at her drink and playing with the napkin under it. "Baby, don't listen to them. You're gorgeous."

When she self-consciously reaches up to touch her nose, he drops the arm that was resting behind her on the booth and tugs her out with him.

"We're leaving."

After they graduated from high school and she moved outta that hellhole she grew more confident about herself, and she's totally okay in her skin. When some douche casting director second year mentioned her nose, she ripped him a new one before he got scared that she'd sue him or something and casted her the lead role, then totally fell in love with her (he was gay so he was cool with it). But in the presence of these two, she manages to always revert back to her fifteen year old self.

He's just closed the door of their apartment when she ducks her head, and he furrows his eyebrows when he sees that she's seriously considering their words. "I think... I've been working a lot lately and I'm starting to get bags under my eyes. Maybe I should wear a little bit more make-up." He starts shaking his head before she's halfway done with the sentence.

He grabs her hand and tugs her along into their bedroom. He lays her down before rolling on top of her and skims kisses across her face. "It's gross kissing you with all that gunk on your face," he whispers, and nudges her nose with his. "Why would you want to use all that crap to impress people who aren't even important?" He frames her head with his arms and intertwines his fingers at the top of her head as he waits until she's looking up at him. "This chick I know - she's so smart - she told me once that true beauty is in the way you carry yourself and somethin' about being ugly inside makes you ugly outside."

"I told you that."

He hates that she says it in a small voice. He realises for the first time how much the bullying during high school really affected her, and he so wants to punch himself in the face for being a part of it all. "Yes you did. And you were right; Kurt and Mercedes are such assholes, they're the ugly ones. I can't wait until we're forty and Kurt's all bald and wrinkly and fat, and Mercedes is shrivelled with grey hair, and of course both are still bitter. We can visit them and laugh in their sour faces while we flaunt our hot selves."

She cracks a smile and he feels better about himself.

He has no idea why she insists on still hanging out with them when they're such bitches to her. When he asks her later, after he wipes the tear stains from her cheeks and shows her how much he thinks she's beautiful, she tells him it's because she thinks it's such a waste that they've known each other for so long but aren't friends.

"Sometimes it's better to cut ties and actually spend time with people who we like and who likes us back. What's worse is the waste of time we spend with Bitch and Bitchier."

"When did you get so insightful?" she teases as she rubs his right earlobe with the pad of her thumb (fuck, that feels good).

"What can I say, I'm full of surprises," he smirks as he flips them so he's hovering over her again. His smirk grows when he gets an idea, and he sits up and pats her naked thigh before throwing clothes in her direction and pulling on his own. "C'mon."

"Where are we going?" He looks over and pauses. Her hands are holding the sheets to her chest, her hair's a mess, and most importantly, the confident gleam in her eyes twinkles as the warm hue from the bedside lamp flickers. She's gorgeous.

"To get new friends. There's a karaoke bar down on 44th Street."

"You hate those places," she says as she finally gets moving.

"But you don't." He's on the bed tugging on his Converse when she steps between his legs in just her underwear and pulls his head back to kiss him.

"Thank you," she murmurs against his lips, her fingers lightly massaging the sides of his scalp.

"For what."

**:whispers: please review**


	5. v

**I had another idea for "one time Rachel was an awesome girlfriend" but then this one hit me and I had to write it (even though it doesn't completely fit the title). I hope you like it as much as I do.**

**Thank you so much for reading! I had fun writing this.**

v.

"Do you trust me?" He tries to say it lightly and not let her know how loaded that question really is. They're sitting on the bench at Central Park, watching the ducks. And it's nice. Spending time together and just basking in each other's company without having to feel the need to make small talk or have a deep and meaningful conversation. It's been a hectic few weeks and they don't have as many days like this anymore, what with Rachel being a successful Broadway star and Puck producing this hot new band's sophomore record, so Puck's appreciating the stillness in the secluded part of the pond with a cup of coffee in his left hand and his girl's hand in the other. It's the first time either of them have spoken since they first sat down, so he turns his head from the duckling chasing a pigeon and murmurs it softly right into her ear because he's afraid that it'll shatter the moment or startle her into jumping.

It only takes her half a beat to answer, "Yes." and he loves her even more. It's like she doesn't even have to think about it; like it's the most natural thing to trust him. She has no idea how that one little word can make him feel so alive and happy. Or maybe she does. He likes to think that she's in tune with him; that she gets him. Especially after almost twenty years together.

When she looks over at him, he can see the question in her eyes. She's wondering where it came from. He honestly doesn't know. He guesses that it's been bugging him from the back of his mind since they got together at the end of sophomore year at NYU. Even way before the whole baby drama he hadn't exactly been the most stand up guy. He'll be honest and admit that he's had his doubt on whether he could keep it in his pants for so long and be the man who treats her the way she deserves to be treated. And after everything he's done to the people in his life, Puck doesn't think anyone's truly trusted him.

But fuck, Rachel's the exception, isn't she? He should've known. He should've known that even he isn't so stupid as to screw this up, he had nothing to worry about. She is the best thing that's ever happened in his life. She's the only one who makes him feel like he could do anything he sets his mind to. She's the only one who really believes in him. Rachel knows he's not a Lima Loser, and he loves that he gets to prove her right every day they're together in New York, every day he comes home from the studio and feels satisfied with his day.

He knows he's grown up a lot since high school - hell, since college. And he definitely knows how hard he's worked to become the best damn music producer in the city. Rachel says that he's really stubborn when he's got his mind on something. But he honestly believes that he wouldn't be here if it weren't for Rachel encouraging him to go after his dream.

"Noah," she frowns. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Everything's perfect." He shakes his head and looks down at their intertwined hands, rocking them subtly across the width of his thigh, trying to catch something in the setting sun that's not there.

He puts his cup down next to his feet, and when he looks up at her again, she's watching him with an unfamiliar expression (he _thinks_ it's her uncertain face).

"I just love you, Rachel." She smiles really big and then bites her lip like she's trying to contain her happiness. He doesn't like when she tries to hold back on anything she does, so he gently pulls her bottom lip from her teeth with his thumb. His heart starts pounding in his ears when he has a thought and he concentrates on her mouth for a few moments to gather up the courage to look into her expressive eyes. "Do you trust me," he repeats, pulling the loose strand of hair to tuck behind her ear when the early autumn wind blows a bit too strong.

"Yes," she whispers.

"Do you love me." It's not even a question. He's stopped questioning it a long time ago.

"I do. I love you, Noah." He slides his hand to cup the side of her jaw and his thumb skips unsteadily across her cheek. She shuffles closer to him on the bench and leans into his hand more, and he realises that she's playing with the part of his coat's sleeve that's covering the tattoo etched on his wrist.

He takes a shaky breath and presses his forehead and the tip of his nose against hers. His eyes never leave her face.

"Marry me."

"Yes."

**To the guest that reviewed: I think it's more realistic that they haven't moved forward in their relationship all this time because they were trying to establish themselves in their careers (plus, you know the whole Finn and Rachel engagement thing). It would've been too stressful (and unfair) for them - in my opinion - to be planning their wedding or looking after their children while trying to prove and make a name for themselves. And there are plenty of examples of actors and musicians who have been together for years without really getting married. (And it says almost - while I was writing this their relationship has lasted around 15-16 years.) - But hey. That's just me.**


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